Orym knew that the ever present breeze that passed through Zephrah was just as in thanks to the Summit Peaks that the settlement was nestled within as it was the elemental plane that they Ashari that lived there protected. He knew that breeze, which oftentimes could be upgraded right to wind, like the back of his hand. He knew how it would catch his clothes, ruffle his hair. He knew how the grasses would bend to it, how it could coax the pink petals from the cherry blossom trees to dance through the air.
And that was why Orym wasn't all too surprised when he opened his eyes and found himself in the community that raised him, walking through a door and into a space that was heartachingly familiar. He remembered moving in, learning how to share a space with someone who wasn't his mother. He remembered choosing the different bits of decor, many of which were gifts that had been given at their wedding. He remembered painting the walls in the sitting area, a task that had turned almost typically into splashing the paint at one another and making a mess that was now mostly hidden by a rug. He remembered choosing which room would house what, mentally reserving certain spaces that now held storage to eventually have a crib.
But mostly, he remembered the telltale sounds and smells coming from the kitchen, an evening meal clearly being put together in preparation for Orym's return home.
Orym stood in the entryway, soaking in what was an all too familiar dream. It felt like more than that, though--more real in a way that his dreams of Zephrah and his life before normally were. This wasn't real and he knew as much. It was temporary, just as they always were. But as he closed the front door behind him and heard a voice he hadn't expected to hear ever again say,, "Orym, is that you?" from the kitchen, it hardly mattered.
"Yeah, it's me!" Orym set his gear down, abandoning it for now as he took the well trodden path to the kitchen. The sight before him brought an immediate smile to his face as he paused in the doorway, hip leaning against the frame and arms folding across his chest as he observed his husband in the final preparations of dinner.
There was no sheepishness in Orym's open stare, his eyes flickering over Will and drinking him in as though he was his first sip of water after a long trek through the Rumedam Desert. Will was as familiar to Orym as the home they were in was and the view and the mountains outside of it were, from the flecks in his eyes to the scar on his chin and the freckle above his lip. It was a face that Orym had memorized and though he had worried that said memory had faded over the six years that they had been apart, this dream--because it was so clearly a dream, he knew it had to have been--was evidence that his mind was perhaps more keen than he'd realized.
A few moments passed before Will's gaze popped up and he visibly startled at Orym standing in the doorway. The laugh that he let out was like music to the halfling's ears, stirring up a warmth in his chest.
"You're too stealthy," Will declared, shaking his head as he turned to put what looked like the finishing touches on two plates of food.
Now a bit of sheepishness did seep into Orym's expression. He pushed himself off of the doorframe, stepping further into the kitchen. "Sorry."
"Don't you lie to me." Will's tone was light, teasing as they navigated their way through the joke they'd shared so many times before. The smile that he gave Orym over the shoulder was nearly enough to knock him over. "Come grab your dinner. I have gossip to tell you about my sister."
"Which one?" Orym asked, dutifully taking the offered plate and letting Will lead the way to the table.
The gossip happened to be about Berenie, the oldest of the triplets. But Will didn't stop there. He continued on, telling stories from his childhood, painting a picture yet again of what it had been like to grow up with three older sisters and two doting parents; it was something that Orym couldn't relate to, though he was ever grateful for the way Will's family had tucked himself and his mother into their fold without question. He reminded Orym of the time when the two of them had been teenagers and how they had made such grand plans to steal a skysail, going so far as to actually start the plan one night before chickening out and finding a romantic place to steal kisses from each other instead. He talked about how their oldest niece had started showing druidic promise. He complained about his upcoming guard shifts, because even if they were both good at their work and loved it, everyone was due a gripe or two now and again.
They talked about everything and nothing, Orym listening and giving his input now and again, but mostly just staring at the man he'd fallen in love with so many years ago. As normal as this felt, as though someone had taken a slice of his past and plopped it down before him, it didn't escape him that this wasn't real.
That much was driven home, when they had finished dinner, stacking the dishes in the kitchen to be washed later, and retired to sit together outside. Will's head was resting in Orym's lap as they watched the sun make its way to set behind the Summit Peaks around them. He turned, looking up to Orym and said, "Okay, now it's your turn. Tell me what you have been doing all these years."
Eyes on the sky, Orym did just that, weaving a story for Will that would have been more or less unbelievable when he was still alive. He had been prepared to live in Zephrah to the end of his days, leaving only when necessary to protect the Tempest. Now, though, he explained to Will the decision he'd made to venture out into the wider world of Tal'Dorei, to put some physical distance between himself and his memories. He told him about how he traveled for a time on his own, before somehow finding himself in Emon with a ragtag group of adventurers that he would eventually come to call family as they overcame obstacles and impossibilities. He explained how he had been called back to Zephrah and two of those new members of his family came with, staying by his side as the Tempest gave him a task that he couldn't refuse, one that sat close to his heart and threatened to scratch at the edge of his healing if he let it.
Orym told him about the new people he had met and how he had only known them for a couple short weeks, but that he had come to think of them as family, too. He told him how warm that felt, after a childhood of just himself and his mother. He spoke of odd events in Marquet, of hopeful leads, of new connections. And then he haltingly talked about saying goodbye--a temporary one, but a goodbye all the same--to someone he had come to care about very much.
When Orym finally ran out of story to tell, he let out a soft breath of relief. Will was never far from his mind. Even having left Zephrah, the reminders were always there, sometimes in the most unexpected of places--the moons in the sky, his favorite flowers dotting a landscape, a rush of deja vu when a meal was prepared just so. And while he had imagined being able to talk to him and having done that very thing in his mind while looking up at Catha, it could never be the same as this.
Orym looked down at Will, one of his hands in his hair as his husband gave a serene smile in return. "It sounds as though you've had a hell of a time," he said, lifting a hand to brush fingertips calloused from years of training over Orym's cheekbone. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there to see it."
"Me too." Orym was quiet for a moment. "I think you would like them all. They're… insane and chaotic and keep me on my toes, but they're amazing, too."
Will smiled again, finding Orym's free hand to lace their fingers together. "It sounds as though they're exactly what you needed."
"Yeah," Orym agreed, looking up to the sky that was quickly fading into night.
"Then I'm glad you found them," Will continued, Orym feeling the way that he squeezed their fingers together. "I don't like the thought of you being alone, you know. I know that you can take care of yourself, but that doesn't mean you need to be alone."
It was a lesson that had taken Orym some time to learn. Even when he had fallen in with the Crown Keepers, it had felt odd to align himself with people he hardly knew. He had been reluctant to follow them, had questioned their priorities and need to forge ahead into trouble, thrown accusations around--but it had all been out of worry for them and the care and affection that had grown there. It was something that he'd been lacking, being away from Zephrah, his mother, and Will's family.
"I've figured that out." Orym looked back down to Will, expression a bit serious. "It took me some time to realize that you wouldn't want me to be alone, too."
"I don't," Will confirmed without hesitation, meeting Orym's serious look with his own. "I get why you would need to leave here--" He waved a hand around, indicating Zephrah in general. "But I'm glad you've been able to make new friendships and connections." Now, his expression turned a bit wry. "I just hope they know how lucky they are to have you."
Orym huffed a chuckle. "It's vice versa."
"Agree to disagree." The smile faded again from Will's face, his expression turning more wistful. "Can you do something for me?"
"Anything."
Will lifted their joined hands, pressing a gentle kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger, which was sporting a band in this dream despite that Orym hadn't worn it in years. "I know that we had made a lot of plans and we were supposed to have shared so many more years together. I hate that it was taken away from us and that you were left behind. It's not fair and it never will be, but promise me something?"
Orym nodded, his fingers twisting gently in Will's hair once more--careful not to tug, but enough to make their connection continue to feel tangible and real.
"Promise me that you won't let the memory of me hold you back, okay? I know you, Orym, and I know you'll never forget me and I'm selfish enough to be okay with that." Another smile here, sad and leaving Orym feeling as though a crack was forming near his heart. "But you've got so much more time ahead of you and you're going to do some great things. You've already opened yourself up to these new people in your life, but don't stop there, all right?"
Again, Orym nodded, at a loss for words. He had grown and healed a great deal in the years that had passed since he had clutched Will's body to his chest after the attack. He had gotten to a point where, when he had recounted the tale to Dorian and Fearne, then most recently with Chetney, he could do so with warmth and appreciation, not just sorrow and pain. He thought fondly of his time with Will, because those were times he was incredibly fond of. He still had his days, though. He was still a work in progress. Everyone was, weren't they?
"Good. All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy. That will look more different now than it was back then, but that's okay. So long as you get there in the end." One more brush of lips to Orym's knuckles. "Think you can do that for me?"
"I can certainly try," Orym murmured.
"Good," Will repeated. "That's all I can ask."
They fell into silence again, simply enjoying the other's presence. The watercolor sunset was replaced with the night sky, complete with Catha and Ruidus as they made their ascent. Despite their proximity, Orym nearly jumped when he felt a touch on his arm, right where the moons had been inked into his skin.
"There we are," Will said, looking from the ink to the moons above them. "Big moon, little moon."
Orym smiled, warmth healing that crack he had felt before in his chest. "I'll always love you, you know."
"I know," Will confirmed. "I'll always love you, too."
In the end, Orym hadn't known how much time he would have in that liminal sort of dreamscape with Will. All dreams, especially the very good ones, came to an end. But he would enjoy the time that he was given, hold it close to his heart, and then do exactly what Will wanted of him once he woke. He would live.